


A Huntress turned Handmaid

by Frufrusc



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Consent Issues, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-24 04:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30066552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frufrusc/pseuds/Frufrusc
Summary: Taken away from her cottage Feyre Archeron has been dragged to Prythian and assigned to serve the High Lord of the Spring Court as her maiden. Due to faeries concerns about their difficulties for having children humans have now been taken once more to bow and serve the needs of the creatures beyond the wall. Love, vengeance and pain could very well be Feyre´s fate in a land of beasts.The handmaid´s tale meets A court of Thorne and roses series (graphic content).
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Tamlin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honored to be here once more I had this idea running through my mind for a while now and thought about giving it a chance now that Yielding to the dark is coming to an end hopefully in a couple of days. For the ones of you who have read it thank you so much for keeping up with me and for the ones who I hope you like it! 
> 
> Once more, the characters belong to the one and only Sarah J. Maas and the concept of the story to Margaret Atwood. 
> 
> Let me know what you think ;)

She thought there was once a time where she'd been happy. Sitting in the oddly illuminated bedroom, too tense to move or else the monsters surrounding her might hear and come for her once more, she debated for a second on how she had lost the happiness she hadn't even noticed she´d had until now.

But it was then when it hit her. She may have never known happiness at all, after all thinking she'd known it was only a desperate attempt to fool herself from what her life had been, and now it was too late for her to even attempt to reach out for it ever again. To dream of a brush when every hair in her body was screaming in alertness. She thought about her sisters and it was like a shard of glass had embedded itself in her chest, Nesta… she could survive this, she had the fire to do so. But Elain, her throat closed at the thought and her hands curled into fists so hard her nails almost broke the skin of her palms.

She would find the way. She prayed to whatever force that could be listening that her sisters would have made it. If not, she would find them no matter how long or how many houses she'd have to break into.

It was then when she heard the ring of the bell and her whole body tensed in response, the jump almost sending her to the ground. She'd had the time to think about what was going to happen next and though her stomach turned at the idea, she forced herself to stand and trust her wobbling legs as she took the bonnet and cover her head with it. 

June took a deep breath and refused to give another thought to it before she started moving towards the door. Except, there wasn't any June to begin with. 

She had a name. But it was forbidden now.

The bell rang once again. With each step her stomach seemed to sink further and further while bile started to make its way up her throat. Her eyes wandered over the walls of the hallway, at least as much as the bonnet allowed her to. Still, in this side of the manor there wasn't much to see to begin with. They were afraid she would make a reckless choice, a choice so inconceivable to immortals that she had just pieced it together by hushes and frowns from the priestesses at the mention of “ _ the way of you mortals have to deflect” _ .

She had been taught and instructed about what was expected of her now that she was at the other side of the wall. How she had been sent to no other than the High Lord of the Spring Court and how she was expected to cooperate in her duties by the call of the Mother. 

The bell rang a third time. Impatient, a warning now. 

Today the very core of her person would change, like the day she had been taken away, however this time would be a mark that would cut even deeper in her soul and flesh. It would not be the screams of her sisters that would ring in her ears now but the one of a much heavier breath over her skin and she couldn't suppress the violent shiver that struck her when she thought of what waited for her up the stairs. 

She wanted to fight, to run, to hopelessly look for an arc one more with frantic eyes. But they expected her to do so, and there was nowhere for a maiden to run unless she was willing to leave her sisters in this side of their human existence. So, she would endure it, until she found a way, she would comply.

And though her name was forbidden now, so many things were forbidden now, she would not lie to herself. Her name was Feyre Archeron, and she would not break through hell.


	2. A pheonix or a pig

She stopped at the door and though she wanted to keep her eyes locked on the floor, making the most distance possible between her and this world, Feyre´s curiosity betrayed her and she looked directly at the woman in the room. Female.

The female in the room.

She didn´t know what she expected but somehow it wasn´t this. The deep contrast between the lovely furniture and rich creams that decorated the sitting room, the smell of flowers and the heat of sunshine that bathe the wooden floor had nothing to do with the faerie that stared at her like she was no more than a tick that had to be dealt with. For them, she figured out, she was no more than that after all.

- You took your while. – The female said and nodded to the couch in front of her. – I don't use to make a habit of it, but you can sit.

There was nothing that Fayre would ´ve want less, but she nodded despite it and obeyed. The female paced in front of her, no doubt examining her red maiden's cloak and what she could make out of her silhouette underneath it. Feyre reminded herself to keep breathing, her mouth slightly open and raised her eyes to examine the female in return. The first thing that struck her was her red hair and what immediately crossed her mind was how similar it´s gleam was to the one of blood. Her breath caught in her throat and the female raised an eyebrow until something like a smile appeared on her face.

She knew she was a prey long before she had entered the room, the manor even. But she'd never felt more like a mouse in front of a gloating cat before. They looked at each other, for how long she didn't know, and she understood this wasn't about survival for them so much as it was a game.

- Is this your first post? – The female finally said.

- Yes… Ma´am.

- Will see if you make it better than the last one. It was like training a puppy, and not a very smart one. – For some reason the comparison hit her like a blow, but she locked her eyes on the ground and nodded. – What's your name?

She went blank for a second. She had lost her cottage, her family, her future, and still, losing her name seemed as the utter confirmation that her life had slipped through her fingers and now all that remained was a role she had been left to interpret.

- June.

There was only but silence. She waited for instruction but there was nothing other than the weight of the female´s quiet gaze over her bonnet. Feyre dared raise her eyes once more and she had to stop herself from shivering when the lady started walking towards her. Something about the way she moved was fully predatory, even dressed in flowers and helped by the soft moves of her pastel skirt, it was like the softness of the place was unable to translate on her skin. She was pretty, but her set jaw and her narrowed eyes gave her a look like she was pondering where it would be better to prick her with a pin, a cruelty dressed up in silk that was just owned almost with pride.

She was about to talk when they heard the door open and their attention shifted to the interruption. Feyre almost wanted to thank the small mercy when she looked at the male who had crossed the doorframe and her stomach seemed to sink even further. A blond man raised his eyebrows in a silent question before concentrating on her and giving a small nod.

- Blessed be the fruit. – He said a low voice.

- May the Mother see us – She whispered in return. He gave him a more energized nod and held her stare. There was a moment of silence, like he wasn't sure how to proceed before he said. 

- I just came by to introduce myself before the ceremony. I´m Tamlin, you have already met my wife, Amarantha. – He said as he fixed one of the buttons of his scabbard and she could tell this was just one more formality he was obliged to go throughout the day . – I'm sure she will give you all the instructions necessary for you to feel comfortable and safe round the manor. 

At that he seemed to pause, like he was convincing himself, gave her a last quick examination and started turning over. 

– It was nice meeting you.

Was she supposed to say anything? She couldn´t remember.

- Nice meeting you too. – But it was the wrong thing to say because suddenly the world seemed to freeze. The High Lord and her lady stood there for a second, as if she had just spat on them instead of returning his greetings. It was just a moment, before he kept going and exited the room closing the door behind him. For a moment she was certain a blow would come upon her. 

- I want to see as little as possible of you as I can. – Amarantha was all said from the bookshelves in front of her after a moment, fire contained in each word. – Don´t get any ideas, he is my husband, until the last of our days, which will be long past your bones have turned to dust. Give me trouble, human, and I´ll make sure you don´t feel the urgency to do it again.

Feyre felt her sweat going cold on her skin and this time she didn't have the courage to lift her gaze.

- Yes, ma´am. – Was the only thing that could leave her lips.

- Go to your room and get ready for the ceremony. – Her voice was pure tension and Feyre almost wanted to curl over herself.

She nodded and rushed out of the room without making a sound. She needed a weapon, now. If she couldn’t get her hands on an arc she'd have to settle with a knife. She wasn't as used to it as she would like, but she had let it come too far without having anything to defend herself. Feyre hurried down the halls as quietly as she could, trying to remember every twist and turn of the enormous manor in case an unlikely chance of escaping would come. She took notice of the windows that were sealed and the ones that were used as exists to the garden, she´d already calculated the distance between her room on the second floor and the fall to the ground, since climbing down wasn’t possible when they had removed the foliage from her side of the wall, and her eyes absorbed every bit of information that could come in hand.

She was in such a hurry that she didn't even see the male in front of her until it was too late. She crashed against his side so hard she almost fell to the ground had it not been for the set of hands that held her in place.

- Look out. – He growled.

- Sorry. – Feyre cut him and lowered her gaze once more. She thought about how upset her distraction would make the priestess and cursed herself before spying through the bonnet.

The red headed in front of her seemed as shocked as she was and for a second, they just looked at each other with no words to offer. Feyre was the first to break the stare and forced her breath to calm down.

- Are you the new maiden? – He asked. 

_ No, I just enjoy running through manors with a stupid gigantic hat and in full red like a human straberry.  _ She wanted to say but her tongue had not made her any favors so far.

- I am. – She simply said and hoped it would be enough. The male took a step back from her but his curiosity had the best of him.

- What is… what´s your name?

_ Feyre _

- June. – She dared look at him and was surprised to look at how nervous the male seemed to be. His gaze went from her to the hall before laying once more in her face and gave a small nod. – I guess I should introduce myself since we´ll see each other a good deal from now on. I´m Lucien, Emissary of the Spring Court.

It was maybe the most decent introduction someone had given to her since she´d ended up on this side of the wall. She almost wanted to smile, had it not been for the fact he was part of the monsters she was running from in the first place. So she said what was expected and had learned to pull her away from any given situation this days.

- Blessed be the fruit.

- May the Mother see us. – He answered uncomfortably.

She simply nodded back and walked past him, her bonnet pointing to the ground and kept her senses alert to any other faerie roaming around the hall. She found none and by the time she reached her bedroom she´d already composed herself enough to act like she wasn't planning on running away across the window at the smallest of sounds.

She didn't have a door to close in fear that she would use her privacy unwisely, but her room was far away enough for the servants of the manor not to see directly at what she was doing. So she calmly sled into it and sat by the window before she started counting. Seven minutes, seven minutes would be enough for anyone that had followed her to lose interest and leave her alone to her thoughts.

As she counted Feyre examined the room inch by inch. She only needed one thing, one object she could use to wield against an opponent, something small enough to hide in her clothes but dangerous enough to hurt someone if needed. She still planned on stealing one of the knives from the kitchen, but that might take longer than she wanted.

The minutes passed and when it was over, she started wandering around the room like she was getting to know the new habitat her captors had built for her. She looked and looked but there was little for her to even begin with, the room had merely a bed, a small wooden table and a closet for her red uniform. She thought about pulling out one of the nails on the wall, but there was nothing except her fingers to help her. She then considered breaking the oil lamp on the nightstand and stealing one of the broken glass pieces. And if the time came… but she couldn't think like that, not at least until she knew her sisters were safe. Besides, the servants would come because of the noise and she doubted they wouldn´t arrive to the same conclusion and examine her for stolen remains.

With a sight she let herself fall to the mattress and refuse to acknowledge the tears that were forming in the back of her eyes. Maybe she could find a way to get the nail out after all, she leaned over to take another look when she realized.

She almost jumped from the bed before checking the hall from any servant and getting her hands under the mattress. There they were, springs. She dared to look and almost sighed with relief when she noticed they weren't made from iron but from no more than a thick wire. It would be hard to break, but she had time.

First a weapon. Second: find a way out. And last, get to her sisters wherever they were.

So with her eyes fixed on the door Feyre started to slowly turn one of the springs at the feet of the bed. She twisted and pulled until her hands ached and she considered giving up, but the mere thought of sitting next to the window waiting for the beasts to come once more was enough to push through it. It was then when her mind started to wonder.

Maybe it was the look of the wooden floors, brighter and better than the ones from her cottage but similar enough to hurt, or maybe it was the high pitch sound of the wire that reminded her of Elain’s screams. One moment she was sitting on the floor in her maiden´s dress and the next she was scrambled over her own, moving frantically over the few arrows and knives she had from her hunting trips to the woods.

- Hurry. – Nesta´s voice screamed from behind her. Elain´s sobs became higher and she cursed under her breath as she finished packing every possible weapon in the house.

- Where are we going? – Elain whispered.

Feyre stood and turned back at her. Her sister's eyes were opened in horror while Nesta almost ate her alive with her own, almost defying her to say the wrong thing.

- The town is not safe. –Her father interrupted and she´d almost forgotten he was there. A twinge of guilt crossed her, but if the rumors were true, it wasn't him who they wanted and with his leg there was no way they could make it out of there by foot. Still if she was right and they didn't come after him there was no one to make sure he had food in his plate.

- You can't seriously be doubting because of him, can you? – Nesta´s voice almost spat.

Feyre´s eyes were fixed on her father and she saw the shadow of pain cross them before he reached out to her and grabbed her hand.

- I´ll be fine. Go. Before it's too late… you were always the best of us Feyre.

Her heart ache, but she didn't have the time nor the words to make things right after all what had happened. So, she slid the backpack in place, squeezed his hand and turned one last time to their sisters.

- We´ll go through one of the old roads, skip the town, it's too dangerous. We just have to make it to the coast and take a boat.

- And how will we pay for it, may I ask?

- One fucking problem at a time do you mind, Nesta? – She didn't have the time and for once her sister obeyed. – You go first, I´ll be at the back, if they come I'll buy you some time.

Suddenly her hand yank free from the metal base and she looked at spring with surprise. She´d made it. It was barely a weapon and it wouldn't be fatal but it was better than nothing. Quickly she sat once more on the bed and curled over herself to hide the object from anyone who might come looking for her since the ceremony had to be no more than an hour ahead.

Within a couple of minutes and a lot of mental cursing she managed to bend the wire until she had a decent looking pommel around her hand and the other side had been straightened enough so that it would resemble a dagger. Given that she'd had no more than a bed and half an hour she'd take it.

She hid the metal in the back of her corset and no more than ten minutes passed before she heard the footsteps of a servant coming towards her. Feyre's body seemed to go hot and cold at the same time and her face became covered by a thin sheet of sweat. It was time.

And she was nowhere nearly ready. She would never be.

The servant walked into her room and almost seemed to look at her with pity before she left the bucket of water, pointed at it with her chin and left without a word. Shaking, she dragged it to the corner of the room where she hoped there was a blind spot to hide her from the hallway and the window. It was absurd though, to hope for privacy when they all knew why she was here. When the very definition of intimacy would be taken away from her in a last confirmation that all freedom, all sense of position over her body, had been expropriated from her.

Silently she took her clothes off and rubbed her body with the sponge. The ceremony required her to be clean, despite she couldn't think of anything more far away from purity than what was about to happen. Her hands shivered so violently she almost hissed at herself in frustration.

_ Stop.  _ **_Stop it._ ** _ You are just making it more difficult for yourself. _

She was barely over when she heard the bell ring and her eyes closed in answer while she found the courage to start moving again. Feyre took a deep breath and without letting herself elaborate a thought about where she was headed, she tied the corset once more and left a room that had gone from cage to refuge in less than a day.

She didn't want to think, but her self-control was entirely focused on preventing her from throwing up or running, to also keep control of where her mind was headed. She imagined she could resist their attempts, stop her from voluntarily walking like a pig to the slaughterhouse but she'd already proven it would only hurt her more in the long run. They would tie her up, put a muzzle on her if needed and break through her body and spirit with her cooperation or not. She didn't have the energy to keep making survival any harder at this point.

When she arrived at the sitting room they were already there waiting for her, only the High Lord wasn't there to stare at her, but she knew it was a matter of seconds before he arrived. She passed Lucien, who was there to be a witness of the Cauldron´s power and the Mother´s will but refused to meet his stare as she walked towards the cushion on the ground and kneed before the lady of the court and waited in silence. She started counting.

…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…

The door opened and the head of the house entered the room, almost breaking the awkwardness of the patient waiting. Almost because it was only a matter of seconds before the roomed filled with tension once more.

- I´m sorry for the delay. – He brushed the button of his scabbard. – Let's get started.

He moved to the head of the room, between her and the fuming lady, but he refused to meet her gaze. From one of the bookshelves he pulled a book that seemed older, was probably older, than much of the things she'd seen in her life. It was thick and covered in black leather, her eyes wandered examining the details when she noticed the burn of black eyes over her skin. Amarantha was looking at her, drilling holes in her with her stare as if Feyre had taken her clothes off and started dancing across the room instead of spying through her hat. She rushed her eyes to the rug underneath her and focused on the patterns until Tamlin´s voice filled the room.

- _Long before High Fae´s and man walked this earth, there was a Cauldron. All magic was contained inside of it, as the world was born from it´s power. Thanks to the Mother and her willing to give is that we wander through time to conquer and thrive._

_ Cauldron save you and Mother hold you, it is both parts of a unit that have been needed to give life and endure. –  _ Feyre´s gaze slowly climbed over the reader and her pulse went erratic with fear.

_ It´s with the power of the Cauldron, and the willingness of the Mother  _ -Tamlin then looked at her. - _ that we gather here tonight to pay tribute to life and eternity. _

That was everything there was to say. Tamlin turned towards her lady and gave her a small smile before his attention shifted to the red headed male and dismissed him.

- Thank you for your time, Lucien.

More silence. The male stood there for a second, holding the High Lord´s stare until he finally decided. 

- Tamlin do you-

- Thank you – Amarantha´s voice cut him before he could continue. – for your cooperation, Lucien. – She finished. Feyre couldn't tell what was happening but she had a sense this was not the first time something like this went on.

Lucien eyes darted to Tamlin and hung there for a second more before he let out a small huff and bowed slightly. She resisted the impulse to clench to his legs and beg him to get her out of there. After all, if her understanding of this world was correct there was nothing left to do against a High Lord's power, even for the High Fae.

So she waited in silence until the emissary had closed the door behind him and she sensed the couple moving around her. She saw their shoes in front of her and fought against the bile coming up her throat.

- If you are so kind to join us. – Tamlin said and she stopped breathing. Without making a sound Feyre got to her feet and followed them out of the room.

She could hear her own heart pumping against her ribcage, and she had no doubt they could hear her too. She knew the house couldn´t be big enough for them to walk for hours until they reached the couples bedroom, but it felt as if within every step she gave the hall seemed to grow five steps longer. When they reached the wooden door she knew this was the moment when all what she was, was left to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest this was kind of a hard chapter to write but I hope you are as excited as I am,  
> Let me know if you liked it!


End file.
